


His Heaven

by cadkitten



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson’s fingers slid over the exposed patch of skin, his battle-sure hands working fast to change the bandages on Sherlock’s wound. The smallest of frowns flirted with his lips, his forehead creased with slight anxiety. He shifted slightly, pulling his medical grade tape out and ripping off a length of it before pressing it across the gauze, fingers smoothing it over his partner’s pale thigh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t help it at all. I just needed smutty Johnlock. Gyaaa. **First time in this fandom, let me know what you think!**  
>  Beta Readers: gothic_hime  
> Song[s]: "Can You Feel My Heart" by Bring Me The Horizon

Watson’s fingers slid over the exposed patch of skin, his battle-sure hands working fast to change the bandages on Sherlock’s wound. The smallest of frowns flirted with his lips, his forehead creased with slight anxiety. He shifted slightly, pulling his medical grade tape out and ripping off a length of it before pressing it across the gauze, fingers smoothing it over his partner’s pale thigh.

His wrist brushed what he’d been trying to avoid this whole time, a gasp slipping into his throat. His eyes lifted to study Sherlock’s face, to see his reaction to this whole thing.

Sherlock stared down at John, his features almost unreadable. But his eyes gave him away just as much as his cock was in that moment. He was fully hard, aching to the point of near desperation, and his eyes smoldering with poorly disguised lust. When his eyes met John’s, he swallowed thickly and tilted his head back, mouth falling open in a silent cry; for what he wasn’t sure, but for whom was more than obvious.

For his part, Watson’s fingers shook as he applied the second strip of tape to the bandage. His eyes slid down over the other’s half-opened white button-up shirt, and lower still to the smooth expanse of skin he was currently working on, across the obvious tent in Sherlock’s underpants. He caught his lower lip between his teeth. In all these years, he’d wanted Sherlock so badly that it damn near hurt, but he’d never, _ever_ suspected the other might feel the same way about him. But this... it was... well, hard proof.

He almost smirked at the pun in his own mind, fingers fully smoothing out the bandage as he leaned in toward the other, his free hand snagging the front of Sherlock’s shirt. Something close to fear swept through him for a moment when Sherlock didn’t move, didn’t respond in any sort of way. But in the next moment, the detective’s voice slid through the apartment. “Make sure the door is locked.”

Hesitating for a moment, John stayed where he was, staring up at Sherlock in uncertainty. The seconds ticked by, marked by the slow thrum of the clock on the wall, and at long last, he pushed himself to his feet, moving to the door and quietly ensuring it was completely closed, flicking the lock to keep their landlady out of the apartment for the time being. Normally, she was welcome at any point, but Sherlock obviously wanted privacy for this, and for that much, John found himself thankful.

He came to stand in front of the other, and then finally slid back to his knees, his hands trembling slightly as he spread them over Sherlock’s thighs.

“What’s the matter?” Sherlock breathed out, “Nervous?” There was a hint of his normal condescending self in those words and Watson found himself thankful for that much normalcy at least.

He swallowed and then just went for what he wanted, his hand sliding over the unmarked skin of his partner’s right thigh, slowly sliding up over the strain of Sherlock’s erection in his pants. The slight gasp of the other threw him off for a moment and he flicked his eyes up to him, studying his face to ensure he wasn’t doing anything utterly wrong right then, that he hadn’t misread the signals.

But all he found was Sherlock finally looking at him once again, those eyes boring into his very soul, and he breathed out a sigh of relief as he palmed the other’s length, drawing a groan from him. It was strange for him, to watch Sherlock come undone in such a manner. For years he’d almost had his mind made up that Sherlock was completely asexual, that he never desired or wanted anything in this part of his life. But obviously he’d been so very wrong, the other’s hard length pressed against his palm through the worn, white material.

His eyes flicked over the other’s rigid tent, his fingers deftly exploring, and then he licked his lips, deciding that honesty was the best policy in this case with Sherlock. “I want to suck you,” he murmured out quietly. He could feel the other’s eyes on him, feel his appraising look, even gauge the amusement he knew was flickering over his partner’s face right then, but he still didn’t feel ashamed for what he wanted... what he’d desired for years now. His eyes flicked up to meet Sherlock’s stare head-on, his jaw set in a decisive manner and his eyes leaving no room for argument right then.

Sherlock gave him the smallest of smirks, arching up off the couch in a silent signal to let the other remove the last barrier between him and what John so desperately wanted.

Watson wasted no time at all, his fingers moving to grasp the white material, slowly pulling it down his thighs, making sure not to hurt him in the process. Once he had the other’s underwear the same place his pants were, in a pool around his ankles, he slid his hands back over those creamy, white thighs, his eyes glued to his prize. The other was much the way he’d imagined, glimpses of his flaccid length over the years helping his expected image. His heart flip-flopped wildly in his chest as he reached out, fingers wrapping around the other’s shaft, eliciting a moan from the slender man before him. “Yes,” John breathed out, eager to keep those sounds coming from the other, having always dreamed of Sherlock being a vocal lover. “Tell me you want this... please....”

Sherlock’s hips shifted, pushing his cock through the tight ring that John’s fingers were forming, another half-strangled sound slipping free of his lips at the action. Already the head was ruddy with excitement, the tip glistening faintly under the dim light of the room.

“Sherlock...” John prompted, his voice holding a plea he didn’t even know he had for the other, his hand moving quickly over the other’s shaft, watching the foreskin slip up over the tip and then pull back down as he moved his hand toward the base of the other’s length. He cursed under his breath, one hand reaching down to squeeze at his own evidence of how much he was enjoying this. He gave himself a few quick jerks through his pants before he gave up and leaned in, tongue swirling over the head of the other’s cock, gathering his essence with a groan.

Sherlock’s hips bucked and the detective let out a sharp gasp, one hand finding purchase on the arm of the couch beside him, the other grasping Watson’s hair in a harsh grip built purely of shock. The next swirl of his tongue left the detective gasping for air, his thighs trembling, and in that moment, Watson found himself wondering if perhaps his newly acquired lover was honestly not familiar with the sins of the flesh.

John’s lips finally engulfed the tip, sliding halfway down the shaft before he pulled back up, a groan feeing itself from his throat at the feeling of the other’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth. So many years he’d imagined this, dreamed of it happening, jerked his own cock in the shower while thinking of it, and never once had he thought it’d actually become a reality. His fingers left the other man’s cock, both hands fumbling open his slacks, freeing his cock. Relief swept over him and he began to move a bit more eagerly over Sherlock’s length. This... this was perfection. He groaned as his hand closed around his own length, his hand starting up its own rhythm as he did his very best to pleasure his partner, tongue swirling, head bobbing, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked on the way up.

Sherlock threw his head back in absolute bliss, another long moan working its way from inside him, bursting out into the world as he arched up from the couch. “John,” he breathed out, pushing his head down just the smallest amount. “Yes... John...”

The sound of his name on Sherlock’s tongue in such a manner damn near had the other losing it. He was so worked up that he was aching and the feeling of Sherlock’s hand applying pressure to the back of his head was almost more than he could take. With a groan, he did his best to take in the rest of Sherlock’s length, breathing through his nose and relaxing his throat as the other took up a frenzy of short, desperate thrusts.

“Unnngh,” Sherlock hissed out, his hips arching hard, thighs trembling. “More!” he cried out, his voice filled with the purest of desperation in that moment, utterly lost within the binding contract of his impending orgasm.

And Watson didn’t hesitate. He sucked harder, moved his head faster, his own hand moving quickly over his own rigid length. Mentally, he urged his lover forward, begged Sherlock to give everything to him in that moment. At long last, it came crashing down on Sherlock, the most agonized and yet beautiful wail leaving the other’s lips as that first spurt of hot cum shot into his mouth. Still Watson moved, his mouth sliding over the other’s impossibly hard shaft, over and over, until he was sure Sherlock was finished, the other man nothing but a whimpering puddle on the sofa.

He pulled off and instantly was on his feet, one leg slipping over Sherlock’s thigh, both hands opening Sherlock’s shirt. As he sank down on his lap, he pushed the material out of his way, sliding his own cock over the expanse of the other man’s abdomen. “Sherlock,” he breathed out, just pushing his length over the other’s skin, again and again, until finally he could stand it no longer. He pulled the other’s hand to his mouth, licking his palm, and then pressing it against his shaft, thrusting into the tight channel he’d created between Sherlock’s hand and his belly. He could feel the other’s cock, still hard and pressing against the back of his thigh as he moved. “Yes,” he groaned, his hands finally moving to Sherlock’s shoulders as he gave in to his own needs, thrusting against the other, his cock dragging over perfect skin.

And then the world was falling apart around him, his voice calling out for Sherlock in those final moments, a shudder ripping through his body as he lost it. Spurt after spurt of his cum splashed out over the other’s pale skin and he rode his orgasm to the very end, trembling with the effort of it. But when he finally collapsed against the other, panting for his breath, he finally felt sated, after all these years of the indescribable agony of desire.

He pressed his cheek against the other’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he simply rested there in post-orgasmic bliss. The moment that Sherlock’s hand came to rest lightly against his back was the moment he understood just how much this meant to him... just how far up his list this moment had been. And it was with a smile on his face that he closed his eyes, simply reveling in it. This... this was his Heaven.

**The End**


End file.
